


High Dive

by BlueColoredDreams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Light Angst, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kei thinks that he can handle being roommates with Tadashi and being in love with him at the same time. He can't, but he'll take what he can get, even if it's just being friends with benefits. </p><p>Tadashi and Hitoka want to give him more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for OT3 week but aaaaaahahaha I got sick just as I started writing and lost about four days of writing, and such it won't be finished by the time the week ends. BUT I wanted to post it during the week, at least?
> 
> Title is from the song of the same name!

Kei hefts the last of his boxes onto the dusty mattress. The bedsprings creak under the weight and he winces; he can’t imagine sleeping on something so loud or… decrepit looking. Sweat trickles down his neck as he surveys the rest of the room.

He can’t imagine how all of this is going to fit, let alone fit with Tadashi’s stuff. Akiteru whistles from the doorway.

“Dorms have gotten so much nicer since I was in college,” Akiteru laments, surveying Kei and Tadashi’s hard-won suite. “Lofts—”

“My bed is stuck,” Kei drones, climbing up the slates that doubled as a ladder for when the bed was at its highest. The bed on Tadashi’s side—they’d claimed sides ages ago via a pretty desperate game of Uno that Hitoka’d had to referee—is set as a loft, the set of drawers and the little desk primly set up in an L that makes Kei suspect that Tadashi and Hitoka have already been in and out of the room.

He settles on the dusty mattress, bed groaning as he leans against the wall.

“Bathrooms,” Akiteru continues, voice louder than before.

“We share with the room next door,” Kei replies, wiggling his phone out of his back pocket. His flip flops dangle from his toes where his feet hang over the edge of the bed, sure enough there’s a text from Tadashi, sent some thirty minutes before, when Kei and Akiteru were dragging boxes from the depths of hell (the back parking lot) to the designated loading site, where there were dollies that could be used to haul the boxes inside.

_Gone to Ikea for shit. LMK if u need anything!_

Kei thinks for a moment, then texts back a: _Please say ‘shit’ means cleaning supplies and a hammer to fix my bed? Also vacuum!_

“A refridgerator! And a microwave!”

“We woke up at 4AM to get to the front of the line for scholarships and sports sign up,” Kei sighs. “We weren’t staying in the cinder brick closet they showed us on tour.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket. _Toka-chan’s got one in the car from where she moved in last week! Will bring food. Be back soon._

Kei lets his phone fall into his lap, looking up at the ceiling.

“You two really wanted to room together, huh?” Akiteru inquires, spinning Tadashi’s desk chair around to sit down.

Kei looks at him through his knees. “Yeah, duh,” he sighs. “We’re best friends. Neither of us wanted to be stuck with some rando.”

Akiteru studies Kei for a moment, brows creasing. Kei can tell by the turn of his lips that he doesn’t want to hear what Akiteru’s thinking about saying. He pulls his feet in and turns his head towards the window.

“Are you okay with living with your best friend?” Akiteru inquires, “It might be a little late to ask, but there’s some merit in the saying you shouldn’t live with friends.”

Kei distinctly dislikes how Akiteru says ‘best friend’; it prickles in his stomach and makes him feel dirty. “We already know each other’s bad habits, so it isn’t like we’re unaware. I know Tadashi snores and sleeps through every alarm and he knows I stay up late. We already planned for any potential unease,” he mutters.

“And the fact that he and Yachi-san are dating?”

Kei feels his face heat. “I never should have told you anything, stupid niisan,” he mutters.

Akiteru turns his palms up and shrugs. “I’m just checking. College is hard, I don’t want it to be even harder for you.”

Kei sighs through his nose and props his chin on his knees. He turns his feet into each other, glaring at the bony knobs of his toes. “It’s fine,” he mutters. He reaches down and rubs at his ankle, trying not to scratch at an ant bite.

It’s fine, really. Truly, it is.

There’s nothing he can do about it, either. He’s not going to ruin his and Tadashi’s easy friendship and he likes Hitoka. She’s quiet and it’s easy to interact with her. Tadashi absolutely adores her to bits and pieces. They’ve been dating for a year now; Kei’s been in love with Tadashi for…

In hindsight? Since middle school, probably. But practically speaking, it’s a new thing for him. He’d never realized before that the comfort he took in Tadashi and the respect he had for his friend was more than platonic. That was, of course, until he realized he wasn’t quite as happy for Tadashi as he’d said he was when his friend started dating Hitoka.

He wasn’t unhappy, exactly. But he felt… bereft. Almost empty. The back of his mouth tasted like acid when he’d quietly told Tadashi which shirt to wear on their first date. His throat ached when Tadashi told him all about it.

He can’t bring himself to be resentful, though, when he sees them laugh or bump hips. Tadashi hasn’t left him for Hitoka; he’s still Tadashi’s best friend, the one who can get him to laugh so hard that milkshakes come out of his nose and who’s seen him blubber like an idiot over Pokemon movies. He knows this, knows that this, too, is fulfilling. If something naturally happened where he and Tadashi could have a chance, Kei knows he’d jump on it—it is as if he’s given up.

But for now, he knows there’s nothing he can do. And while it hurts, it’s okay.

Because Hitoka is a good friend, too. She doesn’t judge him when he hits something he doesn’t understand in his studies, they share similar tastes in music, and she was the only person who’s never done a double take upon hearing his Hogwarts house.

Even Tadashi, who knows him best, had tipped his head and laughed and said, _“Wow, Tsukki, I thought for sure you’d be a Ravenclaw”_. Better that than the blunt challenge of Slytherin—in any case, he’d felt strangely conforted by Hitoka’s serious nod and grin. It’s a small thing, but it was the first thing that really warmed her to him, made her human.

“You sure?” Akiteru asks, “You know, if you ever need out, need somewhere to be, my apartment is welcome to you.”

Kei hears the meaning, knows Akiteru means that if he can’t stand seeing Tadashi anymore, if it hurts too much—if he has to vacate the room because they’re kissing or having sex—that he has somewhere to be. A weight he didn’t know he had lifts itself from his shoulders. “Thanks, niisan,” he mutters, feeling himself flush.

“What is this, though? You have wood floors! We had this crappy carpet that was probably moldy,” Akiteru complains loudly, kicking his legs like a kid.

Kei sighs and unfolds himself from the dusty mattress, springs squealing as he lets himself slide to the floor. “Pretty sure it’s just laminate that looks like wood,” he says, kicking a foot against the floor. “Anyway, help me start unpacking so there’s room for Yamaguchi’s crap.”

The rest of the morning passes in a sweaty, musty blur. Around noon, Tadashi and Hitoka come back, toting large bags from Ikea with odds and ends. Hitoka and Akiteru go to scout out for a vending machine, leaving Tadashi and Kei to drag in the pallet of Tadashi’s boxes.

“All good, Tsukki?” Tadashi asks, shoulders bumping Kei’s. His skin is hot where it brushes against Kei’s forearm.

Kei flexes his sweaty hands. “It’s hot,” he complains. “We had to park in the bumfuck of nowhere.”

Tadashi laughs and jams his elbow into Kei’s side, “Really? We got lucky then. Toka-chan managed to whip her car into a spot before this lady in a huge suburban did.”

Kei snickers as they give the cart a simultaneous tug, wheels creaking as it barely scrapes through their doorway. “The benefits of her mother’s tiny car,” he says, jumping back to avoid getting his toes caught under the cart’s wheels.

They open the windows to let air circulate, but midway through unpacking Tadashi’s cart, the resident director pops his head in and apologizes about the lack of AC. Kei and Tadashi both groan.

Tadashi leans against Kei’s bed, “Jesus, I thought this dorm was new,” he complains.

“Oi, get your sweat off my bed,” Kei complains, sliding a plastic bin of Tadashi’s things under his bed.

“Nope.”

“I know where you sleep now,” Kei threatens.

“Same,” Tadashi shoots back.

They’re both quiet for a moment before they both start laughing. “Tadashi, I swear to god,” Kei laughs, “At least help me move your shoes.”

“How do you know it’s shoes, it could be clothes,” Tadashi says, pushing himself off of Kei’s bed.

Kei rolls his eyes, “Oh, gee, maybe it’s your girlfriend’s handwriting on the box that says ‘shoes’?”

“What about my handwriting?”

Kei starts, feeling a little guilty for no particular reason. Or well—his reason was that he’s well aware that how he teases Tadashi borders on flirting and he feels bad about doing it. “Just that he’s trying to deny that he has this massive box of shoes,” Kei says.

Hitoka laughs, “Oh man, I wish you’d helped us pack up, Tsukishima-kun. He tried to fit his whole closet in the boxes.”

“Toka-chan,” Tadashi whines.

She taps the water bottle in her hand to Tadashi’s thigh, and he yelps at the cold.

“It's not like I don't know,” Kei snickers. “I've seen what's in your closet.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t crammed every book you can into your boxes,” Akiteru calls from the hallway.

“Ugh,” Kei sighs. He reaches a hand out towards Hitoka and she plops a bottle of water into his hands. “Well, that might be true.”

“Might,” Tadashi snickers.

Kei makes the very mature decision to stick his tongue out at Tadashi.

The evening goes in much the same vein as that, easy-going bickering and teasing as they unpack and clean up their dorm. It took all three of them, with Hitoka calling instructions, to get Kei’s bed up all the way. Afterwards, Akiteru leaves; Kei walks him out.

“Thanks, but don’t worry, okay?” Kei asks, tucking his hands into his pockets in the dorm lobby.

“I worry,” Akiteru says, reaching out to scrub Kei’s hair. “But I’ll do my best. Don’t forget to call mom and dad, yeah?”

“I got it,” Kei says, turning to climb up the stairs.

He slides into the room to find Tadashi and Hitoka kissing. It’s nothing new, but it still makes his stomach tighten uncomfortably upon seeing them. Especially as unguarded as they are—Hitoka’s perched atop Tadashi’s bed, legs dangling over the sides and resting on Tadashi’s shoulders as she leans forwards.

It’s innocent, but it makes his mind race indecently.

They break away, both flushing pink. Kei clears his throat and shrugs. There’s an awkward moment where nothing is said as Kei goes to unpack his school supplies to set up his laptop.

He hears the bed creak and knows Hitoka’s fidgeting. He feels his neck burn; he never knows what to do when he breaks into their privacy. It’s awkward and makes him feel lewd because he always inevitably wonders if it feels nice. It has to, right?

Kissing, in general, Kei knows is nice. He’s casually dated people, most notably Kuroo, but nothing really ever comes of it. Because his ‘heart isn’t in it’, whatever that meant. He still bristles from seeing the pitying look on Kuroo’s face in his second year; now, he wonders—and has asked as much—how Kuroo _knew_.

_‘Just smart, I guess’_

But that doesn’t tell him what it would be like to lean forward and kiss Tadashi, or what it would be like for Tadashi to grab his waist.

He clears his throat. “Look, I don’t care,” he says loudly, “I’m trying to give you privacy by doing this, idiots.”

Tadashi laughs first, then Hitoka giggles nervously. Kei feels his shoulders relax. He sets up his computer and fishes out his headphones. He puts them on his bed and climbs up and settles, grateful that Akiteru made him make it up first. He can unpack his other stuff later, but now, he’s tired.

He spends his time split between idly playing a survival game on his computer and watching Tadashi and Hitoka flirt and unpack—Hitoka spends her time carefully decorating for them, including stringing up a set of very pretty lights under each of their beds. Kei makes a note to take her for lunch to thank her for making their otherwise fairly plain dorm room feel a little more like a home.

“Well! Everything’s all nice,” Hitoka says proudly, dusting her hands off once she was done centering an old blue rug Tadashi’d taken from his room at home. “I’ve got to go home now, I’ll see you two later! Bye, Tsukishima-kun! Thanks for helping get stuff in for us.”

Kei looks over at Hitoka and smirks, reaching over the side of his bed to ruffle her hair a bit. “No problem,” he says, waving her off towards Tadashi. “Thanks for making it look not dead in here.”

Hitoka laughs and tucks herself against Tadashi’s side. “I like decorating, so just my dorm wasn’t enough.”

“You’re a fiend,” Tadashi chuckles, turning his head to kiss Hitoka’s temple.

 Kei turns his eyes back to his game, slinking uncomfortably down his sheets as he listens to Hitoka and Tadashi murmur to each other about walking to the car and back. It’s not long before they start to kiss, and it sounds overloud to Kei’s ears. He can hear it all, even the wet way their lips part before the door creaks open.

“Be back, Tsukki!”

Tsukki grunts in reply, not trusting his voice. It’s quiet for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Kei rolls over to call Tadashi to make sure he didn’t get axe murdered after thirty, but the door opens before he finishes pulling up speed dial.

Kei looks towards the doorway, stomach turning. Judging by the flush on Tadashi’s cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes, they’d probably been making out in Hitoka’s car.

“Welcome back,” he says.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take a shower,” Tadashi murmurs, rummaging for his toiletries.

“Alright,” Kei mutters, feeling uncomfortable. He has a bit of a suspicion about what Tadashi’s going to go do in the shower—and it isn’t washing his hair. He tries to shake the thought from his mind—this isn’t the sort of start he wants to get the year off to.

He clamps his headphones over his ears and plays on his laptop until the lights go off.

He closes it and carefully leans over the edge of his bed to deposit ontop of his desk. It’s more of a feat than he thought it would be, and by the end, he’s hanging over the edge of his bed, Tadashi’s hands on his shoulders to keep him from falling clean off. Kei’s cheek brushes against Tadashi’s bare biceps. 

“Really Tsukki,” Tadashi laughs. “Save killing yourself by jumping off of your bed for finals week.”

“Push me back up, you--” Kei gasps, glasses sliding down his nose.

“But it’s sort of cute,” Tadashi complains. “You’re all helpless.”

Kei groans, feeling his cheeks heat, and it’s not from his blood rushing to his head. Cute isn’t a word that’s often applied to him, unless it’s being used cheekily by Akiteru. “Weirdo,” he mutters.

Tadashi laughs again, and leans up on his toes to help Kei roll back into his loft. “Who, me?”

“You,” Kei says firmly. He hears Tadashi climb up his own bed, wood squeaking under the other boy’s weight.

They’re both comfortably quiet, still snickering to themselves as they both burrow into bed. Unconsciously, they both turn towards each other.

Tadashi’s eyes glitter in the half-light cast from one of the string lights. Kei can’t look away; the intimacy they hold as childhood friends is both sweet and sour to Kei. It causes moments like these, where they can just look at each other and feel relaxed; it causes Tadashi to touch him casually, smile at him, speak his mind candidly. These moments make Kei treasure their friendship above all else, yet leave him longing for more.

“Hey, so, about those boundaries,” Tadashi says, eyes darting like he’s tracking Kei’s face and hands. “So I’m thinking like, we get one of those little door  hanger things? And if it’s on the door we get privacy.”

“What, so it’s the sock on the door when you and Yacchan are banging?” Kei’s words are light but the words taste weird on his mouth. It isn’t like he hasn’t thought about that—he’s ashamed to think about how they have sex sometimes, and Akiteru had brought it up that afternoon. “What’s wrong with her place?”

Tadashi sighs and looks at the ceiling, “Well, no. We don’t have sex. It’s for me.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s for when I’m masturbating, Tsukki!” Tadashi says, covering his face in his hands. “God! Don’t you ever do it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kei says awkwardly.

“So don’t you want some privacy?”

“I mean, it doesn’t bother me if you’re there when I do it,” Kei says without thinking. The idea of Tadashi walking in on him… half formed thoughts of Tadashi crawling over him swirl in his head. He coughs, “I mean, it’s just the bathroom? The door’s locked.”

“Noooo, like, I… prefer being in bed,” Tadashi mutters.

Kei feels himself flush hot. “Uh. Well, I can’t judge. But wait, like… you two? Really haven’t? Yanno?” he asks slowly.

“No,” Tadashi answers frankly. “It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you want to know.”

Kei studies Tadashi in the half-light. He knows his friend’s defensive tone when he hears it. “No, that’s not it. I just, you two are… close. I thought, after a year, maybe?”

“We talked about it,” Tadashi admits, rolling onto his side to face Kei. “But Toka-chan isn’t okay with sex-sex. There’s stuff she’s fine with but like, we don’t go far.”

“Ah,” Kei murmurs.

“So I jerk it a lot.”

“Okay.”

Kei closes his eyes and tries not to blush; he fails terribly, images of his friend masturbating behind his eyes—how does Tadashi do it, how does he sound? He opens them again. “Look,” he says, glaring up at the ceiling. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Tsukki,” Tadashi whines.

“I mean, fine? I’m just saying, it doesn’t bother me, uh… that you uh… take care of yourself.”

“Tsukki it’s embarrassing,” Tadashi complains.

Kei sighs, “It’s fine, just ugh, text me when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” Tadashi sighs quietly. “You can use the sign too, if you want.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t bother me,” Kei muttered.

“So you only do it in the shower?” Tadashi asks. Kei looks over at Tadashi, who’s propped himself up to unplug his strand of lights.

Kei can see the muscles in his back roll in the light, muscles accentuated by shadows. Kei knows every mole and freckle on that back—or well, until his waistline—and knows the way it strains when Tadashi is tense. He wonders what it would be like to put his hands on that back, smooth his palms over Tadashi’s shoulders and pull Tadashi to him.

The lights flicker out and Kei shakes the image from his mind. “Not particularly,” Kei says after a moment.

“You’re not worried about me walking in?”

“It’s not something that I’d thought about, honestly,” Kei lies; “Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

“Oh, well,” Tadashi laughs. “Way to make me sound like a perv.”

Kei snickers into  his pillow. “Good night, Tadashi,” he says firmly, mind still wandering to his mouth on Tadashi’s and Tadashi’s calloused fingers in his mouth.

In the end, though, it’s a lot harder to live with Tadashi than he’d expected—it’s just so…

Tadashi is disgustingly domestic. The entire situation is disgustingly domestic. Tadashi makes sure Kei goes to bed on time—even though they still stay up entirely too late laughing themselves stupid in the dark, makes sure he takes his meds. They eat together, do their laundry together. Kei wants to kick himself at how soft and warm he feels watching Tadashi absently fold a well-worn pair of pokemon boxers.

Tadashi takes showers at night, so Kei always falls asleep with the scent of warm flesh and soap in his nose. Sometimes Tadashi climbs up into Kei’s bed as they study, knees pressed tight together as they struggle through their first semester.

Tadashi is a snuggler and a casual toucher—Kei has known that their entire friendship. He just hadn’t realized before how much of one Tadashi is. A touch on the shoulder when he has headphones in and doesn’t hear Tadashi, falling asleep with a cheek on his knee as he studies. Once, Kei came back from class to find Tadashi napping in his bed, reading a comic that Kei’d bought a few days previously.

 It’s like Kei doesn’t have a personal bubble, but he finds no complaints.

Hitoka comes and goes—mostly on the weekends. Kei disappears off to the library. Goes to the student lounge and dicks around on the internet. Sometimes even when Hitoka’s not around. At first, Kei wondered what he was going to do with himself when she’s around, or when Tadashi had the little hanger on the door, but as the semester picks up, Kei finds himself struggling. He’s always been smart and had a knack for testing, and his study skills are good, but he’d managed to wiggle himself in over his head by testing out of two prerequisite classes, dumping him straight into a junior-level class.

He studies and studies, but just when he thinks he gets the materials, they slide out of his grasp.

Midterms come and go, and despite passing everything, the failing mark on that one midterm gets him down. He’s tired and stressed and now worried about failing in his first semester. He just wants to go to bed. He’ll worry about remedials and grades and going to tutoring and office hours later.

He keys into the room and slams the door shut behind him. He doesn’t register that anything’s out of the ordinary until he lifts his eyes from his shoes at Tadashi’s very indignant squeaking noise.

There’s a fluttering of sheets, but it’s too late. Kei gapes up at his friend, who is very naked and was very much in the middle of masturbating.

“Tsukki!”

Kei swallows hard, tearing his eyes away from Tadashi’s red face and disheveled hair.

“I put the placard up!”

Kei doesn’t think about the timbre of Tadashi’s voice or even of the glimpse he’d gotten before Tadashi had pulled the sheets over himself.

“Look,” Kei snaps, dropping his stuff to the floor. “I just flunked that taxonomy exam and all I want to do is lie in bed for five thousand years. Just go back to whatever you were doing and let me die in peace.”

He climbs up his bed and grabs his headphones.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi complains.

“Oh, just finish yourself or I’ll do it for you,” Kei shoots back. He sets his headphones firmly on his ears and rolls so his back is to Tadashi.

Kei closes his eyes and tries not to listen over his music to see if Tadashi really does finish himself—all he knows is that later, Tadashi slides into bed with him. He smells like soap and steam, and Kei finally relaxes.

Tadashi presses his shoulders to Kei’s, and they lie back to back. Tadashi is quiet—he doesn’t ask questions or try to speak, he simply rests against Kei, playing games on his phone. It’s comforting beyond reason.

Kei waits until Tadashi’s breathing evens out, then even past that, until the other boy is snoring loudly beside him, to roll over. He presses his forehead to Tadashi’s neck, curling loosely against his friend.

“ _I love you_ ,” he mouths, words a simple breath with no sound.


	2. Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only had the first two chapters done so I decided to post them on their corresponding OT3 prompt days. OTL I'm keeping the short chapter format though.

Yamaguchi Tadashi has a problem, and that problem begins and ends with his roommate. His best friend. Kei, with his long limbs and sharp face and messy curls; Kei, who lets him jam his elbow into his side and laughs when Tadashi snorts yogurt out his nose at dinner.

Who’d snapped at him and threatened to finish him himself.

He still remembers the hot jolt of arousal that sank under his skin, the way his entire body tensed and curled and tingled with Kei’s presence in the room with him. He remembers turning his head and looking at the tight pull of Kei’s tee-shirt over thin shoulders, the way his waist tapered into his hips and the curve of his legs as Kei pulled them into himself.

He remembers and he dreams and he remembers. Pale fingers and warm palms and Kei saying Tadashi. Kei’s cologne and every time Kei lets him lay his palm against his spine. Remembers the dreams he had in high school, the ache in his chest and stomach, listens to Kei snore and murmur in his sleep.

Kei, whose face is drawn tight these days; Tadashi is proud that it only eases when they talk. Tadashi is proud of the soft look on Kei’s face when he talks to Hitoka, too.

He loves them both dearly.

He loves Kei, who is so steadfast and stubborn, sarcastic and incredibly dorky. He loves Hitoka, who is soft and quiet and calm, but has a cultivated wit to her. He would do anything for them both. He would give them anything they wanted— if only he knew what it was. 

“Say,” Tadashi says, tapping his stylus against his DS. He’s trying to evolve his Eeve Tsuki into an Umbreon. His Sylveon is Yacchan. “About the other day.”

“Mmm?” Kei mumbles from his desk.

Tadashi shifts in the nest he’s made on his bed. “You yanno, you said…”

“I say a lot of things,” Kei prompts after a long minute of silence. He continues recopying his notes into something more coherent. He picks up his highlighter, carefully highlighting the key bullets as Tadashi squirms and mumbles under his breath.

It’s been bugging Tadashi for weeks now. What Kei’d said. His reaction to it. How Kei hasn’t acknowledged it at all, but has started just ignoring the door hanger all together. How Tadashi has forgotten to put it up himself, almost half wishing Kei would make good on his promise.

Hitoka’s text sits forefront in his mind, ‘ _just ask him then????’_ after he’d sent a caps locked mess of an existential crisis to her. He wants to text back ‘ _it’s not that easy buddy!’_ but he figures that’s pretty obvious. Or maybe it’s not.

“That thing you said,” Tadashi mumbles. “The day um… you  uh… when you got the midterm back.”

“For the tenth time,” Kei sighs, “I did fail it, and I did go to tutoring, don’t worry. I was just stressed.”

“No,” Tadashi says slowly. “I mean, that’s good you did that, Tsukki! But that’s not what I meant.”

Kei turns in his chair and looks over at Tadashi, brows furrowed. There’s a blush high on his cheeks and his mouth twists like he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “You heard?” he asks, voice soft and wavering.

Tadashi freezes, DS falling to his lap. “Yeah,” he says. Uncertainty churns in his gut; he’s a fool after all—Kei hadn’t meant it, just said it as a joke. He’s about to get no-homo’d by his best friend, who he cares for deeply.

Not all of those feelings are strictly platonic, either. “It was hard not to miss? You said it right to me,” Tadashi continues. He watches as Kei’s face pales under the heavy flush, amber eyes widening in what Tadashi thinks is fear.

“I mean, I get it was a joke, but just because I was jerking off doesn’t mean I can’t hear you,” Tadashi finishes lamely. That’s not exactly what he wanted to say, but Kei’s face steals the real words from his mouth.

Kei exhales suddenly, then rubs his nose with his palm. “Oh, that,” he says. “I mean, it wasn’t... I meant it,” he continues with a forced laugh. “If that was what would let me stay in the room at that point.”

“Oh,” Tadashi says, face flushing hot. “I mean, I just? Wondered if you were into that?”

What had Kei been afraid of? That Tadashi was going to admonish him for saying it? It almost hurts that Kei was that afraid of him.

Kei tips his head to the side, cheeks and ears pink. “You know I am, Yamaguchi,” he says tentatively. “I mean, I’ve gone on double dates with you and Yacchan with boys.”

“With _Kuroo_ ,” Tadashi corrects.

Kei makes a face. “With Kuroo,” he agrees. “Also Tanaka. Once.”

“…Kei are you demisexual?” Tadashi asks, wiggling his toes anxiously. It seems like a stupid question to ask in hindsight, with how close they were.

It’s just never come up. Maybe Tadashi’s always been afraid to ask, to open up the can of worms that was his old unrequited crush on Kei. Maybe Kei’s shy. They’ve never talked about Tadashi being pan, or any of their other friend’s sex lives—in fact, it’s a fairly recent development for Tadashi to talk about his own with anyone other than Hitoka (and, once, unfortunately, his mother).

Kei’s answering hum is noncommittal, and Tadashi isn’t sure if it’s a question or a confirmation.

“Do you only like your friends?” Tadashi prompts.

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that, and you know it,” Kei says, rolling his eyes. “But, yes. I tend to like my friends.”

“Do you…”

_Like me?_

The question dies on Tadashi’s tongue at the look on Kei’s face. It’s complicated and almost hurt. It’s almost longing.

Tadashi’s stomach flips and his heart stutters in his chest. He tries hard not to gape; his mind races, trying to decipher Kei’s face and words.

Is he reading too much into it? Is he being egotistical to wonder if it’s directed at him? Or at Hitoka? All three of them are close, it’s certain.

Tadashi curls his toes and bites his lip. “Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“The whole—you know?”

“Oh,” Kei says. He shrugs and turns back around. “It… doesn’t matter much. We’re both guys,” he mutters.

The backs of his ears and his neck are red. Tadashi pauses, searching for the what to say next.

He wants to ask Kei if he meant what he said—any of it, all of it. But the right words don’t come. All he’s able to do is stare vacantly at the back of Kei’s head until long after the blush subsides.

The thing about college, Tadashi is quick to learn, is that even if something is important, there’s another twenty more important things going on as well. Between classes and volleyball practice and his weekend job of selling coffee and school supplies to harried students in the library, as well as managing his and Hitoka’s relationship, Tadashi hasn’t found the time or the energy to bring the subject back up.

He’s ashamed to admit it’s completely slipped his mind. But then he’ll look over at Kei when Kei isn’t particularly paying attention and see the look on his friend’s face, and it hits him like a ton of bricks. There’s _something_ there.

It’s there when they jostle each other to get into the bathroom in the evening after practice, when Tadashi steals some of Kei’s shirts because he’s too lazy to do laundry, when they fall asleep in the same bed watching a movie and Tadashi wakes up to Kei’s head just barely resting against his arm, the blond’s fingers curled loosely against his wrist. When they tease each other and when he goes out on Friday nights to meet Hitoka and Kei watches him go down the hallway from their door, hand still hovering mid-wave.

He remembers, but doesn’t bring it up; maybe it’s a bit cowardly of him, but he thinks it’s the safest option to keep quiet, especially since he doesn’t know what to _do_ about it.

He knows, vaguely, it’s possible for him to love Kei and love Hitoka at the same time. But it’s hard, sometimes, to untangle his own feelings. Just like when he was younger, it’s still difficult to discern what’s platonic and what isn’t when it concerns Kei. So, when he remembers, he chooses inaction.

Hitoka knows, though, that vaguely, something has happened between Tadashi and Kei. After all, Tadashi told her despite the indistinct nature of it.

It’s okay if it continues like it is, Tadashi thinks. After all, everyone is doing okay. He thinks. 

“Are you ready for winter break?” Hitoka asks.

“More or less,” Tadashi murmurs, running his hands up her back. “I’m not ready for all the deadlines.”

She laughs and nods. “I’m so stressed out I think I could die sometimes,” she admits.

Tadashi looks up at her and smiles softly, cupping her cheeks in his palms. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs. He leans up and kisses her, once, twice, and then again.

Hitoka’s hands slide up into his hair as his slide back down her back to her hips, drawing her closer. His bed squeaks with the movement, and they both laugh at the sound. Tadashi drops his hands, rubbing the soft skin of Hitoka’s thighs between the place her shorts have ridden up and her thigh-high socks have rolled down, thumb sliding against the pink indents.

“So cute,” Tadashi repeats, gripping her thigh softly.

Hitoka huffs a quiet laugh and rolls her eyes, “Yes, I know.”

Tadashi’s subsequent complaint is cut off by her lips over his own and he’s fine with that. He slides his tongue over the seam of her lips and Hitoka tips her head to allow for a better angle. He remembers when they were both too flustered for this, when it was just small pecks and linked pinkies.

That was good, but so is this—slick lips and short breath, Hitoka’s thighs against his hips and her weight on his lap, his hands on her shoulders and hips and breasts. The way her breath shudders when he rubs her nipples through the silk of her bra and the feeling of her pressing down against him.

There are boundaries that Hitoka won’t cross, and Tadashi knows them well. Neither of them are adverse to getting off with their clothes on; as long as both of their pants are on, it’s fine. Tadashi doesn’t question it, though, if she tells him to stop. Right now, she’s not.

He drops his head to her collar, kissing her neck as she presses her hands against his shoulders, leveraging herself to rub against him. Tadashi moans at the pressure and Hitoka gives a shivery laugh at the sound. He drops his hands and tucks them into the pockets of her shorts, pushing her against him, fingers pressing tight against her.

She gives a low noise and tips her head back, mouth falling open as her hips circle. Tadashi mouths up the cording tendon in her neck, kissing over her jaw to her mouth. He slips his tongue into Hitoka’s mouth, arching his hips up into her movement. The zipper of his jeans bites against him, but it’s easily ignored—he enjoys it, even. He drags his hands up from Hitoka’s rear and up her sweater, rubbing at her sides to feel the way her muscles clench and work.

He’s only vaguely aware that the door opens; he’s much more focused on the way Hitoka’s pressed herself flat against him, stomach quivering and how he can feel the faintest impression of her nipples against his chest.

His focus is ripped away when he hears the clatter of keys against the floor and Kei’s startled voice; “ _Shit—_ I’m—sorry—“

He and Hitoka pull away suddenly, Hitoka’s body going taut against his hands. Tadashi stares wide-eyed at Kei in the doorway, and Kei stares back.

Tadashi’s only seen that level of horror on Kei’s face once before—a look that Tadashi had hoped to never see again. Wide-eyed and vacant, like Kei was shutting part of himself up into a tight little box with no light or air at all, leaving it to die.

“Tsukishima-kun!” Hitoka squeaks. “S-sorry!”

Tadashi gapes at Kei, trying to understand why Kei’s making the same face at them as he made at Akiteru all those years ago. He doesn’t understand why this is equal to that—there’s been no betrayal, has there?

Kei’s mouth twists suddenly and Tadashi sees the underside of his lip tremble as Kei’s face blooms scarlet. “I—there wasn’t, on the door—I didn’t know,” Kei says in quiet horror. “Sorry!”

The door slams shut behind him; Tadashi dimly notes that Kei’s keys are still on the floor. “T…tsukki—”

Hitoka and Tadashi sit in silence for a long moment before Hitoka turns and looks at him, brows furrowed. “Tadashi, what just… what just happened?”

Tadashi rubs the back of his neck, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I forgot to put the privacy plaque on the door,” he sighs. “Since we weren’t planning on making out like that.”

“No,” Hitoka says, shaking her head. She slides off of Tadashi’s lap and sits beside him. “Why did he look like that? That’s not the face of someone who just walked in on their friends being intimate,” she elaborates, gesturing towards the door. “He looked—“

“Yeah, I know,” Tadashi sighs, scrubbing his face with his palms. “Betrayed.”

“He looked heartbroken,” Hitoka corrects. “Like… a kicked puppy. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Tadashi confesses. “You know how I told you about the ‘I’ll finish you myself’ thing?”

“Yeah, did you ask like I told you to?” Hitoka knocks her knee against Tadashi’s.

“Sort of. Maybe? Not really,” Tadashi mutters. He rubs at his face a bit more vigorously, lights sparking behind his closed eyes. Hitoka’s fingers are gentle against his wrist, but the movement to push his hand down is firm.

Tadashi looks over at her, her face stern and he sighs again. “I couldn’t,” he confesses. “He looked scared, Toka-chan, I couldn’t. He was scared of me, and I don’t know why. He said he’s demi, and I just…”

Hitoka rubs her thumb against Tadashi’s palm, lips pursed. “You still like him?” she asks softly.

“Toka-chan, I love you,” Tadashi says urgently.

Hitoka rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t the question, silly. I know you do.”

Tadashi is quiet for a long moment before squeezing Hitoka’s hand. “Yeah… I think so.”

“Think?”

“I don’t know,” Tadashi says. “I mean, I’m certainly _attracted_ to him, physically.”

“…It’s not because we don’t… I don’t, you know?”

Tadashi squeezes her hand again, tighter this time. Even though Hitoka’s gotten better about being needlessly anxious, he knows that this is a sore subject for her; the shake in her voice is unmistakable. “No!” he says emphatically. “No, I don’t mind that you don’t want to have sex at all, Hitoka.”

“Yeah, but,” she says slowly, “It doesn’t change that we’re not and…”

“It’s not that,” Tadashi says, shaking his head. “It sounds terrible, but even if we were, I think I still would be. I’ve definitely been attracted to Tsukki since, oh god, junior high. It’s nothing to do with you.”

Hitoka gives a wavering laugh, then sighs. She lays her head against Tadashi’s shoulders, hooking one foot over Tadashi’s shin. “You know, this is when I’m supposed to be jealous,” she says.

“Supposed?”

“Yeah, you know,” Hitoka says, pointing her free hand in the air. “In manga or movies! This is when I’m supposed to go all ‘oh no’ and get jealous and get angry and think you’re cheating on me.”

Tadashi rests his cheek against her hair and closes his eyes. “Are you? Do you?”

“No,” Hitoka says quietly. “Maybe it’s just because you’re a terrible liar.”

“Saved by the stutter.”

“Mm, yep. Maybe it’s because I know he’s important to you,” she finishes.

“Some importance,” Tadashi snorts. “To make him make that face.”

Hitoka is silent; Tadashi is too. His mind is racing, still trying to figure out why Kei looked like his entire world had shattered. Was it because they’d been teasing each other so much that it was almost flirting? Or was it falling asleep in the same bed?

He didn’t think he’d done anything that would hurt Kei, but then… if Kei liked either of them, he supposes that what he saw was enough. Knowing was one thing, seeing was another. He remembers the sick pit in his stomach from seeing Kuroo and Kei together in their second year, despite thinking he was over Kei.

“Do you think it’s possible to love more than one person?” Hitoka asks, breaking Tadashi’s train of thought.

“I don’t see why not,” Tadashi answers carefully. “I think people are capable of all sorts of love.”

Hitoka nods against his shoulder. “When you say you think, what do you mean?”

Tadashi pauses. “I don’t know if it’s just responding to the idea that Tsukki could like me. Or where loving him as a friend bleeds into being in love. I love you both ways too, and it’s hard to distinguish where one ends and the other starts.”

“And if you figure it out?”

“I’m not sure I can,” Tadashi admits. “Not with either of you.”

Hitoka shifts on the bed, pulling her knees in. “I won’t lie and say I’m not afraid you’ll end up ignoring me and breaking all contact and I’ll get an actual snail-mail letter from you to break  up,” she says slowly, seeing the whole scene in her eyes. “And then I’ll die of grief and loneliness.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Tadashi chuckles.

“I know,” Hitoka answers. “But I’m still thinking about it. In any case, do you want to do anything about it?”

“I do, but do you want me to?” Tadashi asks.

Hitoka shrugs. “My impulse is to say yes. But…”

“Just think about it,” Tadashi says softly. “I don’t have any ideas on how to approach it other than take what he offers, _if_ he offers anything.”

Hitoka squeezes Tadashi’s hand. “Ok, I’ll think about it, but let me know if anything else changes? And I’ll let you know when I decide,” she replies.

“Got it. I promise.”

“Good! Now, call Tsukishima-kun back before he dies in a ditch from loneliness.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” Tadashi laughs, scooping his phone up from the foot of the bed.

“Absolutely! Or he could trip and fall and just not get up, or turn to alcohol! So many things, Tadashi, so many.”

Tadashi snickers as he types out a message to Kei.

“You’re texting?” Hitoka asks, leaning into Tadashi’s lap.

“Ah, it’s a bit… I feel a bit awkward,” Tadashi confesses.

“Lame,” Hitoka sighs, snatching the phone out of his hands. “He’s not going to answer a text and you know it.”

“Toka-chan!”

“Look don’t lie, you know I’m right,” Hitoka laughs, hitting Tsukki’s number on Tadashi’s speed dial. It rings once, twice, then again.

“He’s not going to pick that up,” Tadashi starts, but stops as the ringing ceases and Kei’s voice answers, tinny over the speaker.

Hitoka sticks her tongue out.

“ _Yamaguchi?_ “

“Tsukishima-kun! We’re sorry,” Hitoka starts, “Really. We’re going out for dinner, come with us, I’ll pay to apologize!”

“ _Ah… no… I’m alright.”_

“You left your keys here, Tsukishima-kun,” Hitoka urges. “Come with us.”

“ _I don’t want to intrude anymore on your time.”_

“I wouldn’t be inviting you if it was intruding. Come on, we’re gonna go to that café that has the strawberry cheesecake you like. My treat.”

“ _…if you insist. I’m at the picnic area outside.”_

“That’s bribery, Toka-chan,” Tadashi complains.

Hitoka slides off of the bed, landing with a delicate thud. “Worked, didn’t it?” she asks, tossing the phone back to Tadashi. She starts to straighten her clothes out, smoothing her shorts against her thighs. “Sometimes you have to do what you have to do.”

“That makes no sense, Toka-chan,” Tadashi whines, shimmying off the bed. He combs his hair through his hands, refastening it into its ponytail.

Hitoka’s deft reply is sticking her tongue out.

Tadashi sighs and readjusts himself in his jeans and slips on his sneakers. “Ok ok, I get it,” he complains. “You’re cute and I’m not so therefore you win.”

Hitoka laughs and scoops Kei’s keys off of the floor. “Only sometimes. C’mon, let’s find Tsukishima-kun.”

Tadashi hooks an arm around Hitoka’s and they head out. It isn’t that Tadashi wants to flaunt his relationship in front of Kei, especially not after that, but he doesn’t want Hitoka to feel uncertain either.

The face that Kei makes when he sees them is like a punch in the gut. It’s nothing extraordinary, but Tadashi knows Kei’s distant face when he sees it.

He can feel each noncommittal hum and each time Kei avoids eye contact like needles in his chest. It takes a full week for their conversations to not be stilted, for Kei to start coming back to the room at his regular times. Two weeks for Kei to look at him again.

It hurts to see Kei  looking tired, to go back to monosyllable responses, to go back to feeling helpless. Tadashi’s tried coaxing Kei with food, offering to help him with his homework (that had won him a look that could sour milk), gifting Kei with new pencils and a stack of scantrons and fresh coffee.

Kei just looks at him every time he does. Looks at him with thin lips and eyes that make Tadashi think that Kei is begging; Tadashi just doesn’t know what exactly Kei’s begging for, but he’ll give it. Hitoka’s given her answer, but Tadashi doesn’t know what to do with it with Kei like this.

 _It’s fine, but I want to have ‘date’ time with him too_ , Hitoka had said. Tadashi’s not sure what she means, but he looks at the text for the twelfth time that evening, the light from his screen bright and harsh in their dark room.

“Hey, Kei,” Tadashi says softly. He sets his phone aside, looking at their ceiling washed a blue-white from moonlight through their curtains. “Kei. It’s important.”

A sigh and a rustle of sheets.  “What?”

Tadashi opens his mouth, but the words freeze.

 _Do you like me, Tsukki? I think I like you; like I like Hitoka. I love you both, don’t make that face._ But he can’t, his voice dies in his throat.

“ _What_ , Yamaguchi?”

Tadashi’s mind races for something to say, _anything_ to say. mind races for something to say, anything to say. “Where do bears sleep? It’s holes, right?”

“ _What_?” Kei asks incredulously.

“Bears sleep in holes, right?” Tadashi repeats.

“Where is this coming from?”

“You’re smart Tsukki,” Tadashi whines, “And I’m curious.”

Kei splutters and snorts, “Idiot, Google it! And it’s caves, Tadashi, haven’t you ever seen Yogi Bear?”

Tadashi starts snickering. “But Tsukki, polar bears don’t have caves! And like, it’s not like every forest has continently placed caves for their bears, I bet it’s holes!”

Kei starts snickering as well, “No, I swear to you, caves.”

“No! It’s holes,” Tadashi insists, laughter uncontrollable. He looks over as the room lights up.

“I’m going to settle this,” Kei gasps through his laughter, “It’s caves.”

“Holes!”

“Caves!”

Tadashi covers his face with his arms, tears beading up from his eyes. He missed this, he missed being silly with Kei, and it’s only been two weeks. Whatever he has to do to keep this, he’ll do it.

“It’s both,” Kei hiccups. “Dammit.”

“Aha! I was right!”

“Only half,” Kei complains. “They sleep in caves too!”

“It counts,” Tadashi giggles, “It so counts!”

Their laughter fades, Tadashi’s stomach aching as he hiccups back his breath. The room is quiet. Faintly, he can see Kei’s outline in the moonlight; despite the silence, Kei is still awake and wide-eyed.

“Tadashi,” Kei says softly. His voice is soft and unsure.

Tadashi rolls onto his side, looking across the room at Kei. He wonders, not for the first time, if they both reach out from the edge of their bed, if they can touch. Surely not, but it feels like they could, if they wanted to. “Yeah?”

“Tadashi, if I said I wanted to have sex with you,” Kei murmurs, “Would you?”


	3. Victory and Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth wall jokes? what even?

“If I said I wanted to have sex with you, would you?”

Kei can hear his heart beat loud in his ears. He’s glad it’s dark, because his face and neck are burning. He can’t take it anymore, can’t take laughing like an idiot at night and going to sleep thinking _if only if only—this could be our life, if only he loved me too_.

He thought he’d be strong enough, but somehow, he’d deluded himself into thinking that he and Tadashi had this bubble of a relationship. He hadn’t forgotten about Hitoka, but he’d let himself pretend that Tadashi loved him the way he loved Hitoka every time Tadashi touched his arm or curled up beside him. That Tadashi’s lack of complaint about Kei being in the room when he masturbated was more than it was.

He thought he’d swallowed his pride ages ago, made peace with it, but seeing them… He’d seen them kiss before, but just chaste pecks. Not open mouths and panting and flushed faces, Tadashi’s hands up Hitoka’s shirt and their bodies flush.

He’d taken sly peeks—he’s ashamed to say it—with Tadashi under his sheets. Subtle looks at the screen of his laptop on his dark wallpaper, the picture of a studious roommate with his headphones on, just so he can see the way Tadashi’s face looks when the sheet slips down and his eyes are closed. The face he pictured when he touches himself, wondering what Tadashi sounds like when he moans.

He knows now, and it’s not for him. What he’d seen—none of it was for him; they hadn’t even _thought_ of him. Maybe that was what had hurt the most. He’d run, taken the stupidest, most revealing action he could and just ran.

He’d called Akiteru afterwards, because he just couldn’t handle it. He’d cried and begged his brother for help because it _hurt_ and he can’t shut down this time. He can’t.

Akiteru’s advice hadn’t been ‘proposition him for sex’—it had been more maudlin: Confess even though he knows the answer is no. Kei can’t fathom it; if it hurts this much now, he doesn’t want to think about how much it would hurt to have Tadashi turn him down. To have Tadashi step lightly around him, afraid of hurting him even more.

This, this he could pass off. He thinks. He hopes he could pass it off.

“Kei?” Tadashi asks, voice shaking.

Kei swallows hard against the nausea rising in his throat. “I just… I’m not dating anyone right now, and you like guys too and we’re close… and you’re horny a lot and I am too, I just… thought maybe it could be a good compromise.”

Tadashi stares over at Kei, then sits up. He has Hitoka’s permission to go ahead and tell Kei yes, if he wanted to. But somehow, he finds himself hesitating. “Kei, you know I’m dating Hitoka,” he says carefully. “I’d… I’d have to ask her before even considering it.”

Kei flinches. “I’m not asking you to cheat on her,” he mutters, feeling even more ashamed of himself than he had before. “Not dating or anything with feelings. I just.”

“You’re attracted to me?” Tadashi asks softly.

Kei sits up, rubbing his face with his hands. “No,” he lies. “I mean, superficially, you’re not bad to look at.”

Handsome. Tadashi is handsome and cute and broad. Wide, strong shoulders and large hands that he aches to hold. Whose nose scrunches up when he laughs and whose hair curls at the base of his neck when he sweats. Tadashi has _dimples_ for fuck’s sake. Kei _loves_ to watch him.

“It’s just that,” Kei continues, “I just, sex is supposed to help you de-stress and like, maybe it wouldn’t be so awkward and I… I mean, I’ve never—you haven’t either, right? So it’s just like we trust each other and…”

“Tsukki,” Tadashi chides gently.

Kei flinches, hearing the disappointment in the one word. He covers his face with his palms, throat tight. He doesn’t know why he’d broached it now, after weeks of ignoring Tadashi. He’d played around with the idea, sure, but… He didn’t have any good reasons; all of his arguments sounded flimsy and weak. He was just so _relieved_ that Tadashi still laughed at him, still asked him stupid questions, that they were that close.

And then he had to go and be a freak.

“Tsukki, typically… I mean, not always, I guess, but… most people want their first time to be with someone they love.”

Kei bites on his palm to keep from saying, _And I love you, so it’s fine_.

“And… I’m not… It doesn’t bother me that Hitoka and I aren’t having sex,” Tadashi continues softly. He wishes the moonlight wasn’t so bright. He wishes he couldn’t see the outline of Kei in his bed, hunched over with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

He wishes he could say _Great! I’ll touch your junk, I’ve gotten permission, let’s have sex right now; it’s all I’ve wanted since junior high when I first started masturbating!_ Wishes he could fix it, whatever it is in Kei that’s broken to the point that his friend is grasping straws.

“Sorry, it’s stupid,” Kei answers, voice muffled. He shifts in his sheets and slides out of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud. “I’m… going out.”

“Tsukki! Kei—it’s past midnight!”

“Go to bed,” Kei says, grabbing his phone from under his pillow. “Forget it.”

Tadashi scrambles out of the bed, nearly busting his ass on the floor as his feet get tangled in the sheets. “Kei!”

 His feet catch on the wooden floors, but he digs his weight into them, lurching forward to grab Kei’s wrist. He’s afraid for a moment that Kei will shake him off, but he doesn’t. Tadashi swallows hard, gripping Kei’s wrist tightly; it’s so thin. Kei has always been thin, but Tadashi’s fingers can circle his wrist completely—he wonders when that happened. If it’s always been so easy to catch Kei.

The hallway lights bounce off of Kei’s glasses and Tadashi squeezes his wrist. “Tsukki, don’t,” he says softly. Don’t leave, don’t cry, don’t don’t don’t. He doesn’t know what Kei’s thinking but he knows his chest aches and his throat feels swollen at the sight of the shiny tracks on Kei’s cheeks.

Whatever he’s feeling, Kei feels worse, and Tadashi doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to rush into whatever it is that Kei’s proposing, not when it’s upsetting him so badly. His infallible, unshakable Kei.

“Come to bed with me,” Tadashi says softly. This is all he can do for the moment, to ensure that Kei doesn’t do anything stupid, anything rash. He tugs softly, and Kei follows.

Tadashi lets Kei up onto the bed first, then crawls up the slats himself.

Kei hesitates to lay down; everything, through some unspoken arrangement, all of their studying and movie watching—all of it had happened on Kei’s bed before. Kei feels like Tadashi’s bed is some boundary he can’t cross—it’s where Hitoka sits, where they kiss and cuddle. It’s not somewhere he can be.

But Tadashi’s let him up, despite him making an utter ass of himself. He reaches up and rubs at his damp cheeks, feeling his face burn in shame. He curls up against the wall, cold plaster soothing against his knees and forehead.

Kei's throat aches; the sheets are soft and warm and smell like Tadashi. He didn't want this to be how he got to sleep in Tadashi's bed. Tadashi’s hand is soft on his back; his thumb smoothes over the knob of his spine. He wants to melt into it,  roll over and slip into Tadashi's arms and be okay.

But he can't, he won't. Tadashi isn't his. Even if he'd succeeded, even if they'd had sex, Tadashi isn't his. His heart is Hitoka's, and might be for a long time. Kei doesn't have a chance right now; if he made a move, confessed, and Tadashi did something to reciprocate and broke up with Hitoka, Kei doesn't think he could handle it. It would hurt far too much to see Hitoka's heart break because Kei couldn't reign himself in.

It's not her fault Kei was slow to realizing his own feelings.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says softly, rubbing the base of Kei’s neck. “Talk to me?”

“Nothing to say,” Kei murmurs.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi repeats. He scoots closer to Kei, sliding his hand against Kei’s arm. He rubs Kei's arm slowly, “What are you thinking? Tell me, please.”

“Nothing in particular,” Kei murmurs. He's thinking about Tadashi's weight and heat and how he wants to lean back against Tadashi and cry.

Tadashi runs his hand up and down Kei’s arm, frowning to himself. If Kei shut him down now, then there would be no going back. “Tsukki, I didn't say those things to tell you no, exactly.”

He rests his hand over the crook of Kei’s elbow, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of Kei’s inner arm. “If that's what you really want, I don't have any objections to asking Hitoka if it's okay,” he murmurs. “I don't want you to regret it, though. Please think about it?” He urges.

Kei is quiet; Tadashi sighs softly and pulls the blankets over them both. “I don't want you to only do it because you're bored or horny.”

“I trust you,” Kei says softly. “That's all there is.”

Tadashi rests his forehead against Kei’s neck; Kei feels almost feverish underneath him. He curls his fingers around Kei’s elbow. “Okay,” he whispers.  

“I don’t want you to cheat on Hitoka,” Kei says after a long moment. “I wasn’t thinking much of anything…”

“It’s not cheating if we all are open with each other,” Tadashi says softly. “Open relationships aren’t doomed for failure.”

“When did you start sounding smart?”

Tadashi snorts and flicks Kei’s elbow softly. “Don’t be rude, Tsukki.”

“Who me?” Kei mutters.

“You,” Tadashi answers, sliding his hand down Kei’s shoulder to curl his fingers around Kei’s wrist. “I never asked you, you know, if you were ever okay with all of this.”

Kei feels Tadashi slowly start to relax against him. He rolls over, unable to bear the hot, ticklish feeling of Tadashi’s breath against his neck. “All what?” he asks.

“This,” Tadashi replies. “Touching and just… how we are.”

Kei closes his eyes slowly, sighing. Tadashi gently eases his glasses off of his face, fingers brushing feather-light against his cheeks. “It’s how we are,” he says simply. “You like to touch people; before I realized it was different, it was already normal.”

“Do I really?” Tadashi asks, laughing. He sets Kei’s glasses on the top of the bed where they would be safe.

“Mmm,” Kei hums.

Tadashi resists the urge to reach out and comb his fingers through Kei’s messy curls, opting to smile quietly to himself as he settles down into his sheets, his toes brushing Kei’s ankle.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to Tadashi. He lies awake, wondering if he’s made a mistake somewhere—he knows it doesn’t come easily to Kei either.

Tadashi doesn’t know what to make of the thing, all he knows is that when he wakes up the next morning, Kei is gone. To class, Tadashi thinks blearily, checking the time.

There’s an unread text from Kei: _gone to class, couldn’t/wouldn’t wake u you drool btw_

Tadashi hadn’t realized he’d tensed up until he feels his face and shoulders relax. He rolls onto his back, holding his phone up over his face. The fact that Kei’d messaged him with where and why he’d gone means that Kei is trying to tell him that he’s not upset.

Which means, of course, that Kei is absolutely, one-hundred percent, upset—but the fact that he’s at least trying to pretend he isn’t is strangely uplifting.

He checks the time: ten ‘til nine and Hitoka’s first class doesn’t start until nine-thirty. There’s a chance that she’s still in the shower, but he takes it. He rolls over onto his stomach and hits the call button, kicking his feet back against the sheets as he listens to the ringing on the other line.

“What’s wrong? Are you dying in a ditch?!”

Tadashi laughs, “No, Toka-chan, I’m fine,” he reassures her. “…Do you have something in your mouth?”

“Toothpaste,” Hitoka answers. “Gimme a minute.”

Tadashi hums quietly, trying not to laugh as he listens to the muffled sounds of Hitoka brushing her teeth.

“Okay,” she says.

“That wasn’t two minutes,” Tadashi teases.

“Shhhhh I’ll do it again in a minute. What’s up? Normally you just text. Are you okay?”

Tadashi  rolls over to stare at the ceiling. “I guess? Like I’m not hurt or sick,” he clarifies quickly. “Neither is Tsukki. But ah… last night he asked if I would have sex with him.”

“Did you?” Hitoka asks curiously. “Is this the congrats on sex phone call?”

Tadashi splutters and chokes on a laugh, “God, no!” he says, face burning. “I panicked and said I had to ask you! Then he panicked and tried to run away and I had to leap dashingly out of bed to catch him.”

“Dashingly, huh?”

“It was straight out of a romance novel,” Tadashi says seriously.

Hitoka snorts; “Fanfiction, more like.”

“You wound me,” Tadashi whines.

“Why didn’t you agree?” Hitoka asks. Tadashi can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “You’ve been worrying over it for weeks.”

Tadashi sighs and traces the patterns of the stucco ceiling with his eyes. “I panicked,” he says, “We went from bears in holes to ‘would you have sex with me’. It was surreal. It felt like he only said it because he was desperate. I didn’t want to say yes and do it and have him regret it. I wanted him to think about it.”

“You know, he probably has,” Hitoka says softly.

“Yeah,” Tadashi answers. “Yeah… he gave all these weird reasons, but when I asked him again he said it was because he trusted me. If I say yes, Toka-chan, is it the right thing to do? I don’t want either of us to regret it.”

“Do you think you will?” Hitoka asks. “I mean, I don’t think it would hurt to consider it more, but eventually, you’ll have to decide.”

“I… Well, it’s hard to say. I don’t think I would, but I would if Tsukki came to regret it,” Tadashi replies after a moment. “I don’t want him to hurt.”

“Understandable.”

Tadashi thinks for a long moment; he’s grown up with Kei, and can read him better than anyone.  But he can’t be sure if he’s really reading Kei correctly this time—is he being selfish and projecting? Does he hunger for something he shouldn’t want?

“Yanno,” Tadashi says softly. “There was a period of time where I was so angry about all of it. That people get these nice little storybook lives and I didn’t. That it was just like a story, that I met Tsukki—and in stories, my feelings would be returned. I don’t… I don’t feel like that anymore but I’m scared that maybe, somehow, I still do. That all this is is that Tsukki wants to experiment in ways he wasn’t comfortable doing with any of the other people he’s been with, and that that’s all it is. That I’ll read too much into it, and then it’s going to hurt me, and hurt you, and hurt him. Because I still wanted more even though I knew better.”

Hitoka is quiet for a bit. Tadashi can hear her tapping something, maybe a pen against her desk or a hairbrush against the sink. “Well,” she says slowly. “Maybe that you can be afraid like that is a good thing; being conscious of the ways you _can_ hurt someone makes you aware of what you choose to do, I think. Or at least,” she laughs, “That’s how it is with me.”

“You think that sharks live in the sewers,” Tadashi complains.

“That was a ‘what if’, and you know it,” Hitoka shoots back. “Sometimes I think it’s good to stop and analyze yourself.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi says softly. “Toka-chan, I’m going to say yes, I think.”

“Okay,” Hitoka replies. “Tell Tsukishima-kun that we have a date on… Friday, I think is good. We can go to that café that has the live music and eat cake. I’ll bring you back something.”

“I love you,” Tadashi murmurs.

“I love you too,” Hitoka whispers. “Thank you for talking to me about this.”

“I wouldn’t leave you out,” Tadashi protests.

“No, but you waited to let me know he said something even though you already had my permission to go ahead, and that’s… it’s really sweet, you know? That you’re thinking of us both.”

“If you say so,” Tadashi says.

“I do. I have to get ready for class now, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

They hang up and Tadashi shimmies down the slats. He goes about the rest of his day in a semi-daze, trying to formulate the right way to tell Kei. Hitoka sends him (not helpful) suggestions all throughout the day—some are practical ( _tell him over dinner_ ), some are not ( _lay naked in his bed_ ). Somehow, he thinks, he and Kei have been a bad influence on her.

In the end, he does it in his own typical fashion—he blurts it out just as Kei walks in their dorm after his last class.

“You have a date with Hitoka on Friday.”

Kei blinks and tips his head. “Excuse me?”

“It’s that live café you like, for coffee and cake.”

“Okay, but…” Kei says slowly, closing the door behind him. “Isn’t she _your_ girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“So why do I have a date?” Kei asks, shrugging off his bookbag.

“Because it was her condition for opening our relationship,” Tadashi answers matter-of-factly.

Kei’s face turns pink and his mouth falls open into a soft ‘o’. “Y-you asked? Her?”

“I told you I would,” Tadashi says gently.

“I—yeah,” Kei stammers. He stands awkwardly, fingers clasped at his stomach as he looks over at Tadashi.

Tadashi shifts in his chair, lips pursed. “Tsukki, look, if you don’t want to, that’s fine too. It’s just… the option is there, if you want to take it.”

“I want to,” Kei blurts out, cheeks darkening. He looks away, scowling at his own eagerness. “I just… Are there any other things? Like, no kissing, right?”

“Hm? No, I mean, if that’s what you want, that’s okay,” Tadashi answers. “Are you just not comfortable kissing?”

“No,” Kei murmurs. He sinks into his desk chair. “I like kissing.”

Tadashi watches curiously as Kei runs his hands through his hair in agitation. He stands slowly, then takes the few steps over to Kei’s desk. He sits at the edge, knees bracketing Kei’s chair. “Why, then? So I can know what else not to do.”

Kei looks up at Tadashi, wide-eyed and flushed and Tadashi’s heart skips. His throat is tight like he’s about to cry, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the way Kei looks up at him, stunned, or the way his lips are parted or how he looks away and lowers his lashes as he speaks.

“It’s… more of a romantic thing, don’t you think? Kissing. I would have thought you two wouldn’t be okay with that, too,” Kei says softly.

Tadashi reaches out and cups Kei’s face between his palms. He smoothes his thumbs over Kei’s cheeks, under the frame of his glasses, reveling at the softness of Kei’s flush skin. “We’re fine with it,” he answers softly, tipping Kei’s face up. “Whatever you want, Kei, we’re fine with it.”

Kei’s breath shudders and his eyes close and Tadashi swallows back butterflies. He’s seventeen and kissing Hitoka for the first time all over again. This time, though, he knows not to lean straight in for it, but to tip his head and to part his lips slightly. Knows not to lean too hard and knows how to place his fingers so he doesn’t accidentally poke Kei in the eye or ear as he kisses his friend.

His lips tingle from the soft press of his lips against Kei’s, the peppermint from Kei’s chapstick stinging where he’d worried a crack into his own lips. “You’re a Burt’s Bees addict,” he teases softly, his lips brushing against Kei’s with each word.

“Ah… well,” Kei stammers softly. “The wind…”

“Yeah,” Tadashi answers.

Kei leans up and presses his lips to Tadashi’s again, reaching out to comb his fingers slowly through Tadashi’s hair. He feels euphoric, like there’s carbonation in his veins, like he’s just slammed home a spike that’s won a game.

Kei braces his arms against Tadashi’s thighs, head dizzy as Tadashi slides a hand back against the back of his head, mouth drawing back slightly. The loss of pressure makes his heart stop, then skitter as Tadashi leans back in and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. His breath leaves him in a high exhale that sounds like a whine and Tadashi laughs softly.

“You do like kissing, don’t you,” Tadashi teases.

Kei opens his mouth to bite out a retort—none come to mind quickly, and even if any did, they would have been silenced by the way Tadashi parts his lips with his tongue. Or how Tadashi traces the shell of his ear with his thumb and rests his knuckles under his chin, tipping his head up.

It’s every game he’s ever won, every new song he’s ever heard and every concert he’s ever gone to. It’s every daydream and every jealous thought he’s ever had when he watches Tadashi and Hitoka kiss. It’s every game he’s lost too, it’s seeing Akiteru in the stands in grade school and not being able to do what he wants to.

It’s realizing that now he’s had this taste of what he wants—Tadashi’s lips on his and his tongue in his mouth, Tadashi’s thighs against his arms and the heat of Tadashi’s palms against his burning skin—it’s not going to be enough. Just this won’t be enough, he knows as they break away and then press back together; if they touch, it won’t be enough. If they have sex it won’t be enough; Kei knows he is shockingly greedy. To want what isn’t his to gain, to wedge himself into a relationship that isn’t his own.

He won’t be able to keep his head up over the tide forever, but he’ll struggle along as long as he can to hide it. He’ll hide the fact that he loves Tadashi, wants him to himself—how else can he face Tadashi; how else can he face Hitoka?

Kei won’t lose them both for gain of this one thing.


	4. Love Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahoo! Rating change! > > ;; this is the longest chapter, too, for... uh... reasons?  
> Both songs featured are by Broods, in order: Heartlines and Bedroom Door

It isn’t as if Hitoka is afraid: She’s well aware she’s an anxious person and she knows many of her anxieties have no real weight. She knows how to deal with that. This is something different. If she were to describe it to her roommate, a very sweet girl who Hitoka holds in high esteem, she knows what the reaction will be:

That she’s upset that her boyfriend is “cheating” on her, and is telling her exactly what he’s doing; that it’s because she’s not there with him and because they’re not “intimate”.

Hitoka sighs, twisting her wrist as she curls the ends of her hair; the sound of the hairdryer is similar to the white noise in her head.

It’s not that. It’s the absolute opposite of that.

It’s that she has a date with Kei, who her boyfriend likes and who she holds in high regards. Kei is handsome and sweet and a little bit of a nerd and Tadashi adores him. It’s enough to make her nervous because the way things are going, it’s going to be extremely awkward. Mostly because she’s privy to Tadashi’s feelings and she has a very strong feeling that Kei likes Tadashi too, but she knows one hundred percent that neither of them have talked about the fact that they both like each other.

And she’s the middleman. Not that it’s a bad thing; she has an extremely large soft spot for Tadashi when he’s being a blundering mess, and she thinks the way that Kei has always looked at Tadashi is something to be envied.

This, of course, is another source of her anxiousness.

She curls another section of her hair under.

She’s been getting texts from Tadashi, and once, a call, where he talks about kissing Kei.

How he moves in Tadashi’s lap and how he tastes and how once, his glasses got tangled into Tadashi’s bangs. The way he sits in Tadashi’s lap and how cute he is and how he makes small little breathy noises through his nose.

It all has her a bit bothered and jealous; she’s never wanted to kiss Kei before, but now she does. Tadashi has a knack for coaxing her to try new things—once he got her to try wasabi ice cream—and it bleeds over into their everyday life with things like studying or trying to talk to new people, or… now, kissing Kei.

She’s a bit afraid that she’ll see Kei tonight and see all the things that Tadashi’s carefully described as cute: large knuckles and lopsided smirk and the way that his eyes flick downwards then back up again after making eye contact. The one curl Kei can’t keep tucked behind his ear, or how his socks never quite match underneath the hem of his pants.

She wants to make him laugh, to have him enjoy himself and think she’s cute.

In other words, she’s suddenly found herself in the position of having a crush on Kei.

She blames Tadashi, honestly. Him and his silly, endearing, puppy-dog enthusiasm. Her and her quick heart and easy crushes. She’d fallen for Tadashi in almost exactly the same way, quick and hard and full of jittery butterflies. 

She shuts off her hairdryer and grabs her purse.

The trip to Kei and Tadashi’s dorm room is familiar and uneventful. Driving makes her anxious, so unless it’s raining or very cold, she just takes the train, and then a local bus that stops right outside of the university campus.

It’s their habit for Tadashi to come and meet her, and today isn’t any different.

“Aaah, Toka-chan you’re so cute,” Tadashi whines at her as she threads her fingers with his.

“Don’t pout because you’re not invited,” Hitoka laughs. “Suffer.”

“You’re mean,” Tadashi complains. “Downright rude.”

“And who’s the one sending me lewd messages about Tsukishima-kun?” Hitoka laughs. “I don’t know how I’m going to look at him in the eye.”

“You won’t,” Tadashi says cheerily, “You’re too short.”

Hitoka rams her knee into Tadashi’s knee. “Low blow.”

“Literally,” Tadashi laughs. He swings their hands between them and hums off-tune.

“Do you think I dressed up too much?” Hitoka asks after a moment.

“It’s a date and you’re cute, it’s fine.”

Hitoka nods to herself, fidgeting with her purse-strap as Tadashi lets them into his dorm.

“Tsukki’s still at his study group, but he’ll be done in like… thirty minutes? I think?” Tadashi says as Hitoka pushes him away from the old elevator (she would _not_ get on that thing again, even if both her legs were broken, thank you very much!).

“That’s fine,” she says. “You know, Tsukishima-kun sounds unexpectedly cute from what you’ve sent me. He’s always been handsome but…”

“I just want to eat him up,” Tadashi sighs as they open his door. “He’s really cute, Toka-chan. You two are both so cute. I don’t know what to say to him, though. Like when we’re kissing.”

“You stop kissing me all the time to tell me I’m cute,” Hitoka points out, climbing up to Tadashi’s bed.

Tadashi’s pink face peeks up from the edge of the bed. He lays his chin on the sheets and pouts. “I’m nervous,” he mumbles sulkily. “Like, I don’t know if I _can_ , I don’t want to spook him. Like, sometimes he looks so guilty that I just… I just… I like him, yanno? And I’m nervous.”

Hitoka leans forward and runs a hand through Tadashi’s hair. “Isn’t that natural, though? To be nervous around the people you like? Just last week didn’t you say you still get all flustered when we go on dates?”

Tadashi nods and closes his eyes. “Yeah, it’s like that, but also that like… I don’t want to say the wrong thing and hurt him or like… if I’m reading him wrong… I don’t think we’d stop being friends, you know, but Tsukki still keeps everything inside a lot.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Hitoka promises softly. “I won’t tell you what we talk about, but I can see if I can talk him into being a bit more upfront with you, if you’d like?”

“I’ll pout if he’s honest with you, but not me,” Tadashi complains, lightly punching the sheets.

“I’m special,” Hitoka says, feeling a flush of pride she hadn’t felt before over her and Kei’s camaraderie.

Tadashi juts his lower lip out into an exaggerated pout. He pauses as Hitoka giggles, “Hey, you’re not just, going along with this because it’s something I wanted, right?”

“I’ve told you like five thousand times,” Hitoka murmurs. “I want to do it too. And it wouldn’t be too bad to spend time with Tsukishima-kun alone…”

“Oh dear,” Tadashi laughs. “That sounds like you’re going to naughty things to him.”

“No,” Hitoka says primly. “That’s your job.”

Tadashi chokes on a laugh, both surprised and delighted by Hitoka’s answer. He climbs up the bed and grabs her hands, kissing her forehead. “You’re sassy! I like it!”

Hitoka gives a shriek of laughter and turns her head, “Nooo don’t mess up my hair, I worked hard to get it to not be all frizzy and static-y!”

Tadashi laughs and nuzzles his face to Hitoka’s throat; they’re too busy to hear the door open until Kei clears his throat.

“Um,” Kei says a bit awkwardly, waving. “I mean continue, just uh… I left the group early, so… I wouldn’t be late. Which I am, so you two can continue on.”

Tadashi snickers and shakes his head. He crawls off of where he’d pinned Hitoka to the bed, feeling a bit sheepish.

Hitoka gives a little _humph_ and prods Tadashi’s stomach, “Don’t mind him, Tsukishima-kun, he’s pouting because he can’t come along.”

Kei rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “Well, I mean, he can come too?” he queries.

Tadashi tugs Hitoka’s back down to an acceptable length, coughing slightly.

“No,” Hitoka says, “Don’t do the puppy eyes at me, you’re not coming. He’s not coming, Tsukishima-kun!”

She shimmies off of the bed, landing with a loud thud on the floor. The soles of her feet smart inside of her shoes, but she ignores it in favor of readjusting her skirt and shirt. She strides towards Kei, who looks, in her opinion, a bit like a startled deer.

She bites the inside of her cheek, wailing to herself at how adorable Kei’s startled face is. She hooks her arm around Kei’s elbow and hugs it to her chest possessively. “You!” she says, pointing at Tadashi, “Have homework and can’t come anyway! Are you ready, Tsukishima-kun?” she asks, looking up at Kei, who seems to have short-circuited with the advent of his arm being pressed between her breasts.

It’s startlingly cute.

“Yes?” Kei says uncertainly.

Hitoka gently tugs him forward, “Quick, before Tadashi uses the puppy eyes on _you_. They’re shockingly hard to resist.”

“Yes,” Kei says again, a bit firmer. “I’ll bring you back cake,” Kei calls to Tadashi as Hitoka drags him from the room.

They walk arm-in-arm to the café a few blocks from campus, chatting idly. Away from Tadashi, Kei thaws easily. At first they talk about school, then their families, and then they start debating about the newest set of plot twists in an ongoing eleven-book universe they both enjoy.

“So what comes first, the poem or the real event?” Hitoka asks, “I got confused.”

“Well, I guess we’re supposed to assume he influenced Poe to write the poem,” Kei says with a shrug. “And then heavily rely on the whole ‘time is meaningless’ subplot. They just leaned too heavily on the poem to push the story forward, in my opinion.”

“It was good, though,” Hitoka says as they round the corner to the café.

“Oh yes,” Kei agrees, “I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

He pulls open the café door for Hitoka, following after her. They order at the counter and pay, then drift through the shop to find a table.

“Thank you again for loaning me those digital shorts by the way,” Kei says once they’ve settled in.

They’re in a cozy little corner with cakes and their drinks. The café’s turned the lights low for the night, and it’s riddled with couples in mismatched chairs and squashy, lumpy sofas.

No one’s really here for the cover-band, Kei can tell. At the moment it’s a single guy and a guitar. The piano behind him looks a bit sad—the music student that Kei’s fond of doesn’t seem to be around. It’s his favorite thing to listen to the music go from classical, to anime theme-songs.

The cake, though, is what people come for. The place calls itself a café, but in truth, it started as a bakery that sometimes sold coffee. But then the college students started looking for places other than Starbucks, and bam, it’s a bakery/coffee-shop. The food came a little later, if Akiteru was to be believed.

 “It’s no problem—I don’t see the need for you to spend a fortune on fifty page short stories, when it’s going to be collected later this year,” Hitoka says earnestly. “Did you finish?”

“I did,” Kei says seriously.

“I loved George.”

“Really?” Kei asks, “He was always going to—”

“Don’t say it!” Hitoka wails, “I don’t want to cry. It’s so sad!”

“Ah, well, I guess since I read the new novel before these, I knew it was going to happen,” Kei says, reaching out to pat Hitoka’s hand. “I mean, with a family like that one, of course he was going to—”

“Tsukishima-kun! Do I have to remind you that you—of your own admittance—cried when—”

“I’m just saying it was a noble sacrifice to save his friends,” Kei mutters, cheeks pink.

Their waitress interrupts their conversation over pop-culture YA novels to pour Kei another cup of coffee. She shoots A Look over her shoulder as she leaves, and Hitoka rolls her eyes, but is distinctly pleased.

She shouldn’t be—it’s not as if the waitress was making eyes at Tadashi, but it feels about the same.

She decides to take her chance now that the conversation has lulled and Kei has relaxed considerably. 

“So,” Hitoka says slowly. “Have you two? Yanno…?”

Kei splutters in surprise, face flushing. “No,” he answers.

“No? Why not?”

“Why not?” Kei parrots back, “I just—why are you interested—I mean okay, girlfriend and all, but… pardon for asking, I thought you didn’t like sex?”

“I don’t,” Hitoka says cheerfully. She taps her spoon thoughtfully against the rim of her parfait. “I mean, I am. I don’t mind hearing about it or reading about it or seeing in on TV—unless someone’s watching with me, then it’s awkward.”

“That’s universal,” Kei supplies.

Hitoka nods. “I’m fine with it—I just don’t want to have it,” she finishes.

Kei tips his head. He’s silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Are you like me? I’m not interested in sex unless I’m significantly close, emotionally and romantically, to the person.”

Hitoka shakes her head, “Nah. Like. _Babies_.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t want kids,” Hitoka whispers, turning pink, her eyes wide with horror and embarrassment. “Not yet. So like, the idea of having sex is so ingrained with like… getting pregnant that even the chances associated with condoms or birth control like… are enough for me to be anxious about having sex. Well, penetrative,” she stammers. “It was a huge relief that Tadashi is fine with that.”

“It makes sense,” Kei murmurs. He’s not sure why they’re having this conversation at all. Something nasty churns in his stomach, the same black sour feeling he got when Tadashi kissed Hitoka... It’s the guilt, though, that lingers.

She’s his friend. She knows him just as well as Tadashi knows and is still friends with him and is  making every effort for this whole thing to not be awkward.

Hitoka watches Kei as he looks towards the band, his lips pursed. “Um,” she says softly. “Just now… that you’re not interested in having sex with people you don’t have romantic feelings for.”

“Yeah,” Kei says absently.

“So, then,” she ventures. “You like Tadashi?”

Kei’s eyes widen slightly and flushes; it might be a trick of the light, but it almost looks like his lip trembles. “We’re friends,” he says after a moment. “Of course I like him.”

“No,” Hitoka says sternly. She reaches out and touches Kei’s knuckles. “You know what I mean.”

Kei turns and stares at her for a long moment before he sighs. It’s like he crumbles from within with that one breath; his shoulders slump forward and he rests his cheek against his free hand, covering his mouth with his palm. “We’re just close, is all,” Kei mumbles.

“Tsukishima-kun,” Hitoka says gently. She covers the back of his hand with her palm. “It’s okay if you say yes,” she urges. “If I wasn’t okay with that possibility, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Kei sighs against his palm. He looks at the table, unwilling to meet Hitoka’s gaze. “Yeah, but… you two are dating,” he mutters. “I don’t exactly think he feels the same way.”

“Don’t you think you should tell him?” Hitoka asks. She wants to tell Kei, but it’s not her place. But the look on his face is almost twisted, a bitter grimace of someone who’s accepted their fate. She marvels at the ache in her own chest, knowing that it’s an easy step to get the laid-back Kei she’d come to know over the years.

“And what? Risk this whole thing?” Kei snaps. “I’d rather—”

He falls silent suddenly, realizing exactly what he was saying meant. Shame washes over him and he feels desperate, dirty.

“You’d rather have his body than his heart,” Hitoka finishes for him.

Kei tugs his hand away, covering his face with both hands. He rubs his hands over his eyes, then pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t bring himself to admit that, yes; he’d rather have those small periods of time kissing Tadashi, being in his lap, having Tadashi’s hand on his back when he can pretend that Tadashi is his, that they’re dating.

“It’s going to eat you up on the inside,” Hitoka murmurs. “If you don’t do anything.”

Kei laughs at this, shaking his head.

It does eat him alive. They haven’t even done anything more than make out and it’s killing him. Because the bubbles always burst—Hitoka calls or texts or a classmate asks about Tadashi’s girlfriend. Everything outside of those moments reminds Kei that he’s doing this out of pure selfish desire, that he didn’t set it up just because he wanted to have sex and Tadashi was the only person he trusted to fool around with.

That there will be no dates or holding hands or any other otherwise disgusting displays of affection.

“It’s not like I ever claimed to be a nice person,” Kei says softly. “You think I care more than I do.”

“I know you do,” Hitoka says. “And I think you should tell him.”

“You don’t— _ugh_! Look, if you want to tell him that you think it should be called off because of this, fine, do it,” Kei snaps, “But you don’t—“

_You don’t get it_ , he wants to say, _you don’t understand._ But he can’t. He’s already being selfish and immature and every other terrible thing he can think of; he doesn’t know if Hitoka understands or not. For all he knows, she could know what it’s like to want something she couldn’t have so badly she’d take what she could get.

“I won’t tell him,” she says softly. “I’m just worried about you both, is all.”

“I’m not stealing your boyfriend,” Kei says bitterly. “Don’t worry about it in the least. He won’t ever shut up about you, you know. He talks about the stupidest things, like I don’t want to hear it when we’re together, you know? But he still says it, talks about how cute you are and like—all we’ve done is kiss, okay. And I’ll just—I’ll be in his lap and then he starts talking about how you’ve gained weight and it’s so nice and—there’s nothing to be worried about, he adores you,” he mutters. He picks up his coffee and then sets it down, mouth tight.

“I’m going to get Yamaguchi the cake he wanted,” he says without preamble. He slides out of his chair and leaves, his shoulders tight.

Hitoka sighs softly, throat tight. “ _That_ is exactly what I was worried about,” she says to herself.

There’s no way she can tell him that it’s not Tadashi trying to put Kei in his place or anything, it’s just Tadashi being…well, Tadashi. She wishes she could show Kei the messages she gets and tell him that Tadashi cares about them both in every way he can. All she can do is urge them both forward.

It’s awkward as they leave the café in silence; Kei’s face is pinched but Hitoka slides her fingers into his. His hands are large and warm and she remembers the way Tadashi talks about Kei’s hands; she runs her thumb against the inside of his palm, hoping to ease a bit of tension out of him.

“Sorry,” Kei says quietly as they walk to the  bus stop.

A car drives past, someone from the university, windows down and music blaring.  

_I don't always play nice_  
But I wanna feel your heartlines  
_I wanna feel your heart_

He looks awkward and Hitoka smiles up at him as she shakes her head. “It’s ok, Tsukishima-kun.”

Kei clears his throat as they near Hitoka’s bus station. They speed up slightly, catching sight of the bus at the far corner of the block. “You can call me Kei or Tsukki,” he mutters. He scuffs his foot against the concrete as they come to a halt in front of the stop’s benches.  “It’s fine. Sometimes you do it, and it’s fine to just… keep on.”

Hitoka smiles wider, feeling her face flush happily. She knows that ‘Tsukki’ is special, it’s Tadashi’s name for him—other people have picked it up in passing, but Kei never gave them permission. The giving is what’s important, this small gesture that she knows is an apology and a peace offering. 

“Thank you, Tsukki,” she says, leaning up onto her toes to give Kei a kiss on the cheek. She feels her face burn as Kei blinks under the streetlights, his face turning pink as well. She grins at him, and then fishes her wallet from her purse. “It’s your turn to plan our next date,” she says as she opens her wallet to fish out her bus pass.

“Okay?” Kei says uncertainly, gingerly touching his cheek in confusion.

She waves and skips up the stairs of the bus. Kei watches after her, eyebrows furrowed. The radio on the bus’ crackling speakers  plays the end of the same song as before:

_I wanna feel your heart_

Kei watches Hitoka’s bus drive off, biting the inside of his cheek. He forgot to tell her to let him know when she gets back to her dorm; he files the bit of information away to relay to Tadashi—it’ll be more habitual for her to text him anyway.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries to think of absolutely nothing on his walk back to campus.

He digs his keys and ID card from his pockets, swiping it at the door. He doesn’t feel like waiting for their rickety elevator, so he trots up the stairs. His cheek still tingles with the memory of Hitoka’s kiss; he’s seen her kiss Tadashi on the cheek maybe a thousand times.

It’s not like it means anything particularly special. Right?

He sighs for what feels like the millionth time that night as he fits his keys into his and Tadashi’s door. The weight of his and Hitoka’s conversation sits heavily in his chest and stomach; he wants to lie and say it lifts when he sees the way Tadashi turns from the game he’s playing on his laptop and beams at him, but it doesn’t.

It feels like it weighs maybe a million pounds more. “Brought you some cake,” he says instead of hello. He lets the door fall shut behind him and he steps on the heel of his shoe to slide one off, then the other. “Make sure to text Yacchan to tell her to let you know when she gets home, I forgot to tell her.”

Their fingers brush as Kei hands Tadashi his cake. Tadashi surprises him by grasping his wrist instead of the bag, fingers warm and tight against his skin.

“Kei, are you alright?”

Kei almost flinches—it takes everything in him not to. Instead he curls his fingers against Tadashi’s arm, the plastic handles biting into his fingers. “I am,” he lies, “It’s just…”

“Just?” Tadashi prompts.

Kei looks down at Tadashi’s furrowed brows and worried eyes, freckles dark against his wrinkled nose. Tadashi’s fingers squeeze at his wrist and Kei finds a small sliver of truth to give his friend. “It’s just… it was weird, you know? It’s weird going on a date with your girlfriend.”

“She wanted to,” Tadashi says with a soft laugh. He reaches up and takes the bag from Kei’s hand. He sets it carefully down and covers Kei’s fingers with his own, slowly sliding his other hand down from Kei’s wrist to his palm, cradling the blond’s hand between his own.

“She wanted to spend time with you alone, she was like, ‘oh now that you two are together all the time literally and figuratively’,” he says, pitching his voice high in a frankly terrible impression of Hitoka. “’I won’t get to spend any time with Tsukishima-kun! You’ll hog him all the time!’ It’s true, I promise.”

Kei laughs despite himself—Tadashi’s impersonation is terrible and he’s making the silliest face while doing it. “Still,” he says, “It’s odd…”

“No, it’s fine,” Tadashi assures Kei, squeezing his hand before dropping his head to press kisses to Kei’s knuckles. “You’re the only one she can talk about those books she reads with.”

“You should read them, she’d enjoy talking to you about them,” Kei advises quietly. His heart is heavy in his chest and loud in his ears. Tadashi’s mouth is warm against his hand and his fingers rub at the inside of his wrist and palm. He finds himself embarrassingly short of breath with each new press of Tadashi’s mouth against his fingers.

“I offered, and she turned her nose up; apparently you’re the only one who’ll do,” Tadashi murmurs. He looks up at Kei, seeking out the other man’s gaze. Kei’s face is a soft shade of pink and his brows, while still furrowed, are tight with something other than his earlier worry and what might have been sorrow.

“Oh,” Kei breathes, then repeats it at a higher octave and a sharp inhale as Tadashi scrapes his teeth softly against his knuckles, leaving a trail of pink skin. “It was weird because you weren’t there,” he says suddenly, his words rushing out of him in a desperate confession. “It doesn’t feel right if it’s not all three of us.”

Tadashi looks up again, a small smile plays against Kei’s skin and he burns with it. “Is that so?” he inquires, like it’s a private joke that only he knows. “Then that’s how it should be.”

Kei can’t stand it anymore: he raises the hand that Tadashi hasn’t captured and hooks his fingers underneath Tadashi’s jaw. He leans down quickly, knees bending to crash his lips to Tadashi. He’s hungry for it, he aches for it and Tadashi is too, one hand tight around Kei’s, the other coming up to cup Kei’s cheek.

Tadashi stands, easing the strain of their position. His hand slides to the back of Kei’s neck, fingers firm. They’ve kissed a lot in the past week, he thinks fondly, but always lazily, always slow. There’d been hunger and fire but neither of them had seen any reason to kindle it past hands up shirts and kisses to strained necks; Tadashi had decided it was okay to wait, and Kei had silently followed along with that decision.

This is not lazy or slow; Kei’s mouth is open against his own and their tongues slide easily together in the forward-back-forward pattern they’d developed over the week, Kei rocking on the balls of his feet as he laps at the inside of Tadashi’s mouth. Tadashi grips the back of Kei’s neck a bit firmer, and Kei makes a noise deep in his throat that makes Tadashi’s stomach lurch and drop to his groin.

Kei presses the tips of his fingers against Tadashi’s cheek, trying to urge him closer. He wishes his other hand was free so he could wrap his arm around Tadashi and tug him flush—he wants to be closer, closer, closer. Their heads tipped and Tadashi’s fingers rubbing at the base of his neck and his tongue in Tadashi’s mouth isn’t enough.

He wants and wants and wants, and he’ll take what he wants. People sleep around all the time without any real feeling, he assures himself, just the attraction. And those people end up just fine, there’s nothing wrong with it, and Hitoka told him it was okay to do this.

_It’ll eat you up inside_ , she’d said, but it’s good like this, it’s good. It’s fine like this, too. 

Tadashi steps forward and Kei steps back, Tadashi’s body pushing him against the slats of the loft. The thin wood frame of the footboard pushes at his back and legs and it unbalances him. Tadashi’s body presses flush to his own and Kei groans at how absolutely wonderful it is to be bracketed against their stupid, flimsy, cheap dorm loft frame; Tadashi’s body is heavy and broad and Tadashi releases him suddenly, his hands at Kei’s shoulders.

Tadashi grips Kei’s shoulders with his hands, then drags them down Kei’s arms, fingers pressing against the outline of Kei’s biceps and bony elbows and wiry forearms and thin wrists then back up. He repeats the motion down the flat of Kei’s chest and stomach, then slides his hands over Kei’s waist and grabs his hips tight.

He pulls his mouth from Kei’s, and almost whines as Kei, slit-eyed and flushed and panting, tries to chase his mouth with parted lips shiny with spit. He drops one quick kiss to those lips, then another, and another until he has to turn his head to kiss Kei’s jaw and chin, then across his cheek.

Tadashi runs his nose against the side of Kei’s cheek, bumping the dark frames of Kei’s glasses, intentionally letting his breath come out hard and fast against Kei’s ear. Against him, Kei’s shiver is breathtaking and Tadashi lets his breath hitch as he lets his nose bump against the shell of Kei’s ear.

Tadashi can feel the way Kei sucks in his breath, can feel how much that simple action is affecting them both. He runs his mouth against Kei’s ear, parting his lips to take the lobe of Kei’s ear between his teeth.

Kei moans as Tadashi carefully moves his jaw from side to side, teasing the flesh before sucking. The noise is high and airy, and almost gasping. Tadashi knows Kei can feel the way he twitches in his sweats at the noise, mostly because he pushes his hips tight to Kei’s as the tale-tale jolt hits hot in his stomach.

Kei’s fingers dig into his shoulders and Tadashi’s mouth is dry as he feels Kei’s nails through his tee-shirt. If they continue, Kei will mark him up and that spurs him to roll his hips into Kei’s, the motion rattling the bed.

Kei’s fingers scrape across his shoulders, but neither of them mentions their neighbors.

Tadashi lets go of Kei’s earlobe, now pink and shiny with spit. “Kei,” he says softly, kissing across Kei’s cheek once more. “I want you to remember you can still say no.”

“No,” Kei pants.

Tadashi draws back and quirks an eyebrow. “You want to stop?”

“No,” Kei repeats petulantly, “I just wanted to remind you that I am, in fact, still capable of saying no. I just don’t plan on it,” he finishes. And with that, he reaches out and pushes Tadashi’s sweats down his hips.

Tadashi laughs then presses his face to Kei’s neck, hands sliding between them to fumble with Kei’s jeans. His laugh hitches into a gasp, then fades into a soft moan as  Kei’s fingers circle the base of his dick. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now, with Kei’s thumb rubbing a slow circle against his shaft, grip loose.

He pushes Kei’s jeans and boxers down at once, mouth sucking a spot right at the base of Kei’s neck. He bites down at the same time his fingers curl around Kei and Kei’s fingers tighten against him. They both moan, but Tadashi regains his wits first, twisting his wrist in a slow motion.

He leans back and watches as Kei tips his head back and shudders, eyes closed tight, as he slowly starts to jerk Kei off. Kei’s hand falls away, arm twisting to brace himself against the bed frame; the other latches onto Tadashi’s arm. Tadashi grins to himself, pleased as Kei’s face twists and his erection twitches against Tadashi’s palm.

He rolls his thumb against Kei’s head, reveling at how warm and slick it is. He could make Kei come just by touching him like this, he realizes. He affects Kei this much, Kei who has never done anything sexual with anyone else, who is making such pretty high noises, could be made to come this quickly. He revels in the realization, the knowledge burning hot in his throat and in his eyes and in his stomach.

“I want to fuck you,” Tadashi whispers into Kei’s ear, pressing his thumb against Kei’s slit.

Kei shudders and nods, neck cording with exertion as he tips his head back, back bowing towards Tadashi. “Please.”

“How do you want it?”

Kei opens his eyes, Tadashi’s image hazy  from fogged glasses and watery eyes. He tries to catch his breath but only ends up panting harder as Tadashi taps his fingers against his cock and walks them down to play with his balls. “I want to ride you,” he gasps, trying to school his face into something serious.

He’s given it some thought, actually. And he’s glad for it, because as nice as it was to be pushed up against and caged, he’s desperate, and he knows he’ll continue to be desperate even after they fuck. Riding Tadashi gives him what he wants, to be claimed by his best friend, but also makes it easy for him to be in control—to escape if he has to. It eases the burn in the back of his throat only slightly.

Tadashi kisses Kei slowly, putting his hands on Kei’s hips to give him a bit of a break from being stimulated. “Alright, we’ll do it like that,” he says fondly once he pulls away.

Kei stands aside, watching Tadashi climb up to his bed hungrily. He tugs his shirt off, not particularly ashamed that, aside from his socks, he’s entirely naked while Tadashi still has his shirt and boxers on, albeit boxers that are shimmied down around his hips, exposing the top half of a pale, but freckled, rear.

He climbs carefully up after Tadashi, licking his lips nervously as he sits on his knees as Tadashi pulls lube out from under his pillow.

“I don’t have condoms ready, sorry,” Tadashi says, face pink. “I sort of thought—we’d have a bit more warning.”

“But you have lube under your pillow.”

Tadashi shrugs sheepishly.

“Wow,” Kei says simply, rolling his eyes. It’s easy to infer the reason, especially paired with the shy—yet smug—look on Tadashi’s face.

“Preparedness is the mark of a good boy scout,” Tadashi says, wiggling down onto the sheets.

Kei snorts, “Neither of us were boy scouts.”

“A shame, you pick up some good knotting skills there,” Tadashi leers.

Kei watches him, heart pounding. Tadashi’s back is on the sheets, his shirt rucked up and he’s arched his hips up to kick his boxers off. He braces his feet on the bed, pulling his knees up, thighs parted slightly.

Kei wants to lie on his belly and shimmy up between those thighs, and take Tadashi’s cock into his mouth—to taste him and feel him hot and taut in his mouth. Tadashi’s dark and thicker than he is, and Kei’s sure he’d enjoy the taste of that pink tip in his mouth—but tonight is not the night.

But it might never be the night, after this. So he reaches out and brushes his thumb against the thin stream of precum on Tadashi’s head and gathers it on his finger. Tadashi shudders and his hips arc, his face questioning.

Kei brings his thumb to his lips and sucks it off of his skin, committing the salty, bitter taste to memory. He’s grateful that Tadashi’s only reply is to laugh softly and pat his stomach invitingly.

Kei crawls over Tadashi, his face burning. He kneels, knees on either side of Tadashi’s hips , his weight heavy on his knees and elbows as he leans down and brushes his mouth to Tadashi’s.

Tadashi kisses him easily, mouth parting Kei’s open as his hands ghost up Kei’s legs to rest on his hips. As he slides his tongue against Kei’s lips, his hands travel to Kei’s ass. His fingers curve against supple skin, and he pulls Kei’s cheeks apart, shuffling his feet closer to his body so the backs of Kei’s thighs press against his own.

Kei groans and resettles his weight to his knees and arches his back slightly. He pats the sheets until his fingers close around the tube of lube. It’s hard to balance and kiss and focus with Tadashi playing with his butt, but he fumbles until it opens for him and pours over his fingers.

He reaches back, his shoulders and sides protesting at the angle; he wants to control the pace and how it happens, so he kisses down Tadashi’s neck.

Their fingers bump as Kei reaches back, and Tadashi inhales sharply as he realizes what Kei is about to do. Kei preses his nose hard against Tadashi’s collar and rubs his finger against his hole, feeling the way the lube makes his skin feel almost rubbery.

Tadashi rubs his fingers into Kei’s skin, holding his cheeks apart. He knows when Kei’s put his first finger in by the way he jolts and shudders. “Easy,” he murmurs, kissing the crown of Kei’s head.

Kei groans softly and droops his hips, elbow folding under him as he presses his weight against Tadashi. Tadashi, forever able to read Kei, arches his hips and lets the movement bring friction to Kei’s erection.

They keep up a slow pace, Kei rubbing inside of himself, gasping against Tadashi and Tadashi rubbing up against Kei. Kei struggles for a moment and wiggles, and Tadashi drops one hand to rest against Kei’s knuckles.

Without Tadashi realizing, Kei had worked a second finger into himself. He can feel Kei work them in a slow pace inside of himself. Against his shoulder, Kei’s breath shudders and his knees press tight to Tadashi’s sides.

Tadashi bites his lip, feeling very, very mean all of a sudden. The impulse fights with his restraint for a few seconds before he slides his middle finger in between Kei’s and pushes it inside.

Kei jolts and whines, legs shaking. Tadashi pulls it out and pushes it back in. “Kei,” he says hoarsely, “You have to get used to some thrusting, you know?”

He hooks his finger around Kei’s and rubs against his walls, hot and slick. “Maybe another finger, too?” he muses, reaching over his hip to grab the lube. He blindly pours it between his palm and the back of Kei’s hand, letting it drip down his ring finger before he presses it to Kei’s pucker as well.

Kei whimpers against him. Tadashi withdraws his fingers, then crosses them together. It takes a moment—and Kei scissoring himself wide—but Tadashi works them in. “Move with me,” he instructs, pulling back, then pressing forward.

Kei doesn’t move his hand—judging by the way his elbow is shaking, he can’t—but he presses back into the action.

“Good,” Tadashi whispers, “Good. I’m going to spread them now.”

Against his shoulder, Kei gives a high cry. It makes Tadashi think of bells  and late nights playing Mario Kart and everything that is unexpected about Kei that Tadashi adores the most. He swallows hard and starts up a slow rhythm.

His wrist has only just started to hurt when Kei pulls his hand back suddenly, forcing Tadashi to pull back as well. Kei leans up, shaking and flushed and teary-eyed.

“Now,” Kei says. The word is almost slurred from the saliva that’s gathered in his throat, and there’s a pink line from his glasses scored across his face. Tadashi knows there’s a matching one on his shoulder—as well as a massive hickey from where Kei had bit and sucked to muffle himself.  

Tadashi swallows hard and starts, “Are you sure?” but the question dies on his tongue as Kei reaches out and pours lube, cold as ice, over the top of his erection.

Tadashi groans and turns his head, hips jerking up as Kei’s fingers close around him, suddenly burning hot and too slick to take his mind away from. Earlier, he’d thought that Kei would be the one to come quickly, but Kei’s fingers are on him and twisting around him in such a way that if it were to continue, he’s sure he’d come. He feels himself twitch and swell, stomach tightening as he groans low in his throat, toes curling into the sheets... and then Kei’s hand is gone. 

“I’m sure,” Kei says. “Now fuck me.” 

Tadashi nods and rests one hand on Kei’s hip, thumb tracing the prominent bone there, and the other rests on the base of his dick.

Kei sets his jaw and slowly sinks down, his hands heavy on Tadashi’s shoulders. Tadashi feels the moment his tip slides inside and catches, Kei’s weight on his shoulders so heavy he feels like he’s being crushed. Kei tightens around Tadashi’s tip, voice catching as he cries out.

Tadashi rubs Kei’s side, “Babe, relax,” he urges tightly. It’s taking every ounce of effort he has not to thrust up, his thighs burn with it. “Breathe, it’s okay.”

Kei’s eyes widen in surprise at the sudden use of a pet name, and in his surprise, his knees give out and he sits suddenly down onto Tadashi. He gasps roughly, tears pricking at his eyes and his fists curling up. It doesn’t _hurt,_ exactly, but it aches. The most surprising thing is that when Tadashi pulls his hips back as he flinches, is that the ache subsides.

Kei clenches around him and they both fall still. Kei closes his eyes tightly, body quivering around Tadashi, breath ragged. It’s hot and he’s too full and Tadashi’s hands are all over him. Heat surges and spills into his stomach, liquid and burning. Every muscle feels over-tight and he can’t breathe. Tadashi is inside of him, they’re having sex, and he’s about to come.

His face burns and he clenches every muscle tight, nails digging into Tadashi’s shoulders. _Not yet. Not yet, please_ , he begs himself.

Tadashi moans as Kei tightens around him; the tight heat of it and the feel of Kei’s breath on his face and his nails in his skin is almost too much. It’s far too much and they’ve barely even done anything. He needs more than it to end like this.

Kei trembles above him and Tadashi sucks in a deep breath. He curls his toes against the sheets, clenching his stomach, “Move,” he hisses softly.

Kei’s thighs clamp against his hips as he shakes, “C—can’t,” he gasps. His hips jolt slightly and Tadashi groans, pushing up into Kei. “I’ll—mmnng! I'm too close—“

Every shake of Kei’s body is accompanied by a wave of contractions around him. Any more, and he’ll come before anything’s really happened. He grips Kei’s hips tightly. He closes his eyes briefly, but forces them open, staring up at Kei’s flushed face and parted lips.

He's so cute like this, all flushed and shaking. Even the insides of his thighs have turned a pretty pink, his cock swollen and dark and slick. Tadashi drags a hand from a thin hip and brushes his fingers against dark blond curls of pubic hair then down to the base of Kei’s erection. He circled his thumb and finger round the base and squeezes. “Go,” he instructs.

Kei moans, soft and high pitched. Tadashi’s stomach jolts hot with arousal, breath leaving him in a quick exhale. He would have never imagined such a sweet, high noise could leave Kei. Or how delicate his weight on his hips is, how thin and fine-boned Kei is, like a bird prepared for flight.

Tadashi gasps again as Kei slowly shifts his weight forward, his arms bent at the elbow as he leans into his forearms. His breath falls heavy against Tadashi’s face as his face screws up as he starts to roll his hips. The slow friction of Kei’s circling movement pulls Tadashi’s knees up to him, clenches his stomach, and makes him chase it with short jerks up.

Kei whines and pushes back hard, back arching and chin tipping up as he presses himself flush to Tadashi. Tadashi’s jaw is tight even though his mouth is open, his pants becoming inhales. This thighs shake and as Kei clenches around him and Kei's hands claw at his shoulders, the burning wells up in his lower stomach and he can't hold it back.

He lets go of Kei’s erection, fingers shaking as he rubs the underside of Kei’s cock with his thumb. Kei twitches against him and pushes his entire body up and back. Tadashi grabs him and holds him down against his hips, crying out as the dam bursts and he comes so hard he sees white behind his screwed shut eyelids.

Tadashi feels Kei tighten around him and something hot splattering onto his stomach at the same time he hears Kei’s voice break like a bell. Just like that, it's over and Tadashi is heavy limbed.

He forces his eyes open and sucks in a breath. Kei’s face is close, face still screwed up in pleasure; Tadashi watches in awe as Kei’s mouth shakes with each gasp, lips pink and swollen, his teeth a bright white. As his tear-dampened eyelashes tremble, a bead of sweat slides down the curve of his eyelid. His face is pink and splotchy like it gets in the summertime after a run. His arms shake with the effort of holding himself up.

Tadashi pulls up a heavy-limbed arm and cards his fingers through Kei’s hair. He cups the back of Kei’s skull with his palm, fingers burning, and he pulls Kei against him, tucking the blond against the curve of his neck.  

Kei lays limp against Tadashi, face buried against the sweaty haven of Tadashi’s neck. Bile burns at the back of his throat and shame sinks in his gut. Tadashi starts to pet his hair, and it’s too much for Kei.

The white-noise music that’s been playing on Tadashi’s computer the entire time cuts away to the sudden tinny shouts of a live recording.  Kei tries to pull his attention away from his thoughts so he can listen and ward off the tight feeling in his throat. 

_It's what you do, what you do_  
_There's no need to disappear_  
_I've got room for you in here_  
_To unite, to unite_  
_Tell you why, tell you why_

Tadashi’s fingers rub his scalp slowly as he pets through his hair, an absent, soft motion. Kei doesn’t deserve such tender gestures—these are the things that Hitoka deserves, that she should be getting, not him. Tadashi’s treating him like a lover, and Kei is not Tadashi’s lover.

He might not ever be; this could be the last time they could do this. He’s not even sure if Tadashi could be friends with him anymore if he found out.

It’s too much; Kei’s eyes burn and he’s too overwhelmed to stop it.

His shoulders tremble, then his lips, then the tears spill, unbidden, onto Tadashi’s neck.

_I've been longing after you_  
_Longing after you since the start_  
_Oh and all you have to do_  
_All you have to do is stop by_  
_So shut up the bedroom door_  
_And shut out the world some more..._


End file.
